In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

‘Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon our beloved Prophet and Master Muhammad (s.a.s), all his blessed descendents and noble companions.’

                                                                                       -Aameen.

Dedicated to Muba, Afreen and their whole awesome group who gushed about IYL in college… Jazak Allahu Khairan Katheera for making me grin crazily ;D

Chapter Thirty-Seven

…the way… (Part 3)

Minnesota, U.S.A.

The crowd was bone crushing, volunteers intermittently shouted to maintain calm, but who listened to those poor souls with now almost hoarse throats –

Maryam stood at the edge in the women’s side and watched yearningly as the men, boys and even some ladies surrounded the world’s one of the blessedly inspiring and heart wrenching speaker –Ustad Nouman Ali Khan.

She wished she could have a chance of speaking with him yet she knew the massive crowd was beyond and way ahead of her –so she simply waited and watched until he finally disappeared with the crowd still swirling around him, her heart still tender and throbbing with his words, for he had spoken completely about His (SWT’s) Words. What beautiful changes he had brought in others life, the Ustad will perhaps never know, but there were more than a thousand in this world, who asked Du’a for him from their hearts every single day of their life.

Maryam was so grateful to Allah SWT that He had blessed her to be here today among such a wonderful crowd. This was the first time she was seeing so many Muslims together at one place, it utterly delighted her, and Sufyaan saw her often grinning giddily at each and everything.  

She had been tensed this whole week, things were still not better at the college, her work was rejected in parts –the parts that she had added for modesty’s sake (and it differed from the way she was being taught), besides she was repeatedly facing public abasement in the campus regarding her Hijab. Now that media had taken its mission as degrading Islam –as if they could ever… or doing its usual homework, generating Islamophobia.

“But you look so beautiful, why this?” the curious ones were like this while the deliberately mocking or provoking ones went somewhat like,

“C’mon babe, show us your hotness!”

“You mean she has no hair?”

But her now close friends Hana and Jaya stood by her, and so the days somehow dragged. Maryam sometimes mused how Islam seemed to be everywhere, not in its flattering best – But that was because those who propagated it falsely either did in utter ignorance and were stubbornly proud in their lack of knowledge or else they were those who were shaitaan’s handymen, deliberately planning to debase Islam for a paltry sum of wealth, well knowing that it is the Truth. Ah for how long?

Wa yamkuruuna wayamkurullaah, wAllaahu khairul maakiriin

…they plot and plan, and Allah too plans; And Allah is the Best of planners!

Did they think that the world will never end? Don’t they realize that death will reach them at any moment? And surely they would be brought back to their Lord, and don’t they fear that He will tell them what they used to do!         

Indeed Islam seemed to be everywhere today, spreading with a speed that can’t be denied –making some curious, some mocking, some ignorant, some hostile, some friendly, some eager, some jocular, some grateful --whatever it may be, it just shows that people cannot ignore it and the Promise of Allah SWT through the words of our Nabi SAW is slowly being fulfilled...

‘The Hour will not be established until there remains no house of brick or fur save that the religion (Islam) will enter it: bringing with it honour or humiliation.’

 –Imam Ahmad, Musnad, (no.16957), al-Bayhaqi, Sunan (9:181), al-Tabarani, al-Kabir (no.1280)

Maryam texted her father, then went to do wudu. She had a sudden queer longing in heart to pray two rak‘ahs thanking Allah SWT for everything that had happened until today, bringing her now with this entire crowd, a blessed sight of united Ummah.

She found a spot to pray and forgot everything but Him (SWT).

Ah making us to remember and thank Him repeatedly is indeed His Best of blessings… for one can’t deny that there are times when we so readily forget His infinite invaluable blessings and say that nothing has been good in my life! So, have you never found happiness? No – the answer is given immediately amidst tears and empty longing… how strange is a human being, for the Lord and King of the World has repeatedly said, Turn to Me, Remember and be grateful to Me, both success and happiness would be yours!     

Faz kuruunee azkurkum washkuruulii wa laa takfuroon

(So remember Me; I will remember you. And be grateful to Me and do not deny Me)

Wa iz ta'az zana Rabbukum la'in shakar tum la‘azee dannakum…

(And (remember) when your Lord proclaimed: “If you’re grateful [by accepting Faith and worshipping none but Allah], I will surely increase you [My Gifts]…”)

Yet we heed His Words but sometimes, and forget His SWT’s blessed gifts of Salah and Qur’an and go stumbling, bumbling and grumbling ungratefully our whole life pursuing what not -- only when we grasp it, do we seem to get the sense that it was all along but a mirage, so is this worldly life… and Allah SWT makes it realize if we have in Him complete Hasbi Allah, and…before it is too late, may He guide us from darkness to light, and tune our hearts to His Magnificent Presence always, making them throb ever in His Dhikr!

After completing Salah and a heartfelt Du’a, Maryam went in search of the food stalls where Sufyaan had said he would be waiting; she came across a group of young men of her own age, who seemed to be lounging close to the women’s partitioned section.

Her gaze fell upon the nearest guy, who was wearing jeans and a hoodie, and had an attractive face with mocha eyes that met hers quite easily.

It took a moment for Maryam to realize that she was staring, and she hastily looked away only to hear the guy speak in a drawl,

“Like what you see?” Maryam saw him give a cocky smile.

“You can make it all halal sister,” He continued in the same drawling tone. “What do you say to Nikah?”

Maryam blinked and someone from the girls’ side snorted loudly, while the guy’s friends guffawed.

“Yes? You’re interested? And would you like to speak to my father?” Maryam asked politely. “I think there he is.”

Maryam indicated the large figure of Sufyaan, which was easily recognizable even in crowds. He seemed to be coming towards them now.

Catching his figure, the guys discreetly looked at each other, someone cleared their throat while in the girls’ side there was quiet laughter.

Maryam turned and saw that the laughing came from three girls, two in abayas, one in hijab.

They caught Maryam’s eye and gave her a thumbs up, grinning widely. Maryam grinned back.

“Sweetheart!”

When Maryam faced Sufyaan, she saw that the young men had retreated quite far making her suppress a chuckle.

Later, she met the group of three girls again and they introduced themselves laughing heartily over the hilarious ways and methods the boys did or used as halal pick-up lines.

“I’m Rumaiza.” The bubbly girl of the group introduced. “I’m the good girl.” She winked at Maryam.

“And that’s Taseen. She is funny or at least she tries to be –” Taseen, the Pakistani girl glared.

“I’m Bilqis. And no, you can’t call me bill.” The girl of the Hijab deadpanned, her friends hooting in laughter. She wore sleek glasses and had light brown eyes that were kind of serious yet twinkled most of the time.

“Actually, I’m a Hijabi nerd.” She divulged proudly.   

They chattered about so many things for nearly half an hour; when Bilqis and Taseen had to go check with their family, Rumaiza and Maryam continued to talk.

“Earlier I was waiting for those two when I saw you come near our section… and those guys checking you out, ya Allah! Dad says boys come to these camps only for three things –”

Her black eyes shone in laughter. “Can you guess them?”

Maryam looked around her with a smile. “Actually, this is the first time I have ever come to such a place as this…”

“Really?” Her new friend looked at Maryam curiously but refrained from questioning.

“First – free food…”

Maryam laughed while Rumaiza continued with mock-seriousness. “Second –to check out possible future spouses and third for the speaker, if they are someone like the awesome Nouman sir…”

“Oh wasn’t he simply amazing?” Maryam gushed and Rumaiza perfectly agreed. It was then Taseen and Bilqis came back and joined in the conversation.

Thus, from there to Allah SWT’s Beautiful Words to Blessings, the girls continued to gush non-stop. No wonder, guys baulk at the sight of girls’ enthusiastic chatter or effusive fangirling. For it looked sort of crazy sometimes, nevertheless it was a girly thing, and only they can understand the mad joy of gushing about the things they adored. 

For Maryam, all this was such a new experience as it was mostly Islamic related.  She enjoyed hugely and did not know yet, that Allah SWT had just granted her three great friends for life.

***

Chennai, India.

“Not even once? Just once?” Ahmed demanded with a frown.

Humaira opened her mouth to reply, then closed it shut shaking her head. “I– I can’t.”

“But you gave me this name! And now you refuse to call me by it, is this once again some kind of your respect thing?”

She nodded, then smiled coaxingly. “It’s ingrained in us; we just… don’t call our husbands by their name…”

Ahmed raised his brows. “What does your mum calls your dad then?”

Her smile deepened. “She doesn’t call him, mostly she just says suno ji (listen ji)…”

“That is ridiculous!”

Humaira continued as if she had not heard his remark. “But when we are outside somewhere and Ammi has to call Abbu, then she calls him as Abu Saif and when she thinks that they are alone, then I have heard her calling Abbu as Huzoor (master) and he calls her as my jaan (life)…” She dimpled.

Ahmed smiled, the frown melting as the blue eyes twinkled at his wife. “Not bad. I didn’t think your parents as romantic… alright, say all the names that you love, and we would choose one for both our future son and daughter, that way you would at least call me by our children’s’ name…”

The blushes Humaira couldn’t prevent, as she listened to his deliberate teasing and tried to humour him.

Almost a week had gone thus, both discovering and learning different quirks and traits of each other yet their love steadily deepening...

Maybe it came by being a doctor, ‘cause Ahmed expressed his frowning disapproval on learning how Humaira loved to drink coffee – at almost any hour! He gently tried to convert her to fresh fruit juices and other healthy drinks while she in turn delicately tried to ignore his preaching.

Try as she might, Humaira couldn’t see the attraction in serious discussions of either cerebellum or medulla, nor in the craniotomy of skulls or flushing coarctation of aorta, or the various FRX, or studying about megacardia or cirrhosis of livers…all subjects that seemed to fascinate and transform her husband into a glowing boy.

As for Ahmed, he thought her never ending supply of novels as stuffy or cheesy and the different poetry that she suddenly sometimes raved about …after patiently listening, he frankly said it was a dead bore.  

The differences they acknowledged and tried to accept, while in other things they found and delighted in similarities. Maybe their tastes differed relating to the subjects of this dunya, but it was Allah SWT’s immense Mercy upon them that when it came to the practice, talk and discussions of Akhirah, they became one.

Humaira’s first marital rebuff occurred the day after they had gone to Saira’s home for lunch. That day the couple had an invite from two other aunts, while for the next day, another uncle called them in advance saying that he had booked the lunch for all of them at a hotel for yet another day…

“We are not going to anybody’s home.” Ahmed had flatly declared, after listening to the number of invites coming steadily.

“But…” Humaira eyes had widened a little. This was the first time she saw him not as her husband or lover, but as the man who usually got what he wanted.

“I endured them all when they were here…at Valima, and now again –” His voice softened, looking at her expression. “Don’t rush me into all this Muskaan, my love for you is vast but…” His lips curved into a rueful smile.

She answered his smile, shaking her head.

“They do it out of love too, what shall I tell them?”

“Put the blame on me. Tell them that you have just learned what a tyrant I’m…”

Still smiling, she had left him. And he had the uneasy feeling that he had hurt her a little.

But soon, she had come back laughing and informed him that Kadhija perfectly agreed with him. Her mother had taken the task of informing all their relations, calling and cancelling their invites apologetically, saying that the couple was almost leaving for their honeymoon any time now. Appeasing the well-meaning relatives for having thwarted their loving intentions was never an enviable task.

Humaira swiftly learned that Ahmed would clam shut upon questioning about his parents. At least about his father, he replied in monologues but about his mother, he revealed nothing. She let it rest, knowing that it would take time for him to lay down all barriers, and to let her enter into his mind and soul. Suddenly, one night Ahmed had discovered that his wife softly rambled in sleep –upon listening closely, he became stunned realizing that she was reciting the verses of the Noble Qur’an...           

At such times, Ahmed thought that this intense, heart-consuming love for her had come to him in his life like a flash of lightning on a stormy, dark night when his mind had been messed up, a prey to Michael’s battered images, making his heart suffer through hell –

Yet there were other times when Ahmed knew that his love for her had begun like a tiny seed of awareness during that cruise, the knowledge of her being somewhere close by …yet always beyond his reach – it had buried deep inside his heart or it had born deep from his heart …then silently and cautiously its roots had sunk and shoots had spread… at times even mastering his mind, then finally entangling and meshing with his soul and when it finally hit him --and he had the sense to sense and realize its presence and danger, it was too late, for it had spread and grown beyond bounds.

But as he would come to learn the following months –love, True love for another never degraded one, rather it transcended making you ever better in soul than before even though your heart would be breaking… in the hopelessness and sunken despair of the knowledge that your love would not be reciprocated yet that would only turn you more towards your Lord – for True Love is His SWT’s gift unlike infatuation, physical passion, or mere lust that are shaitaan’s centuries old tools, nevertheless still capable of screwing up heart, soul, and at times precious life.

Ahmed’s love for her had opened in his heart so many chambers that he never even knew existed. Sometimes it surprised him, revealing to him noble shades of his nature that he didn’t know he was capable of. It was like his heart had been all these years…a dry, barren land and the love for her like a long forgotten yet most blessed rain. And he absolutely agreed with Nabi SAW’s words that marriage (your wife) completed half your deen, while he added in his heart that she completed and brought meaning to his life.

In his life, as a man and more as a surgeon, Ahmed had learnt to be precise, cautious and careful with so many things. Yet witnessing some times that giving life was not always in one’s skilled, adept fingers that performed so many amazing operations had not softened him. For mostly when he made up his mind for achieving or obtaining something, he had had excellent victories even outside his operating theatre and it was only Death that had managed to defeat him.

There are so many who have a few select friends but acquaintances many, yet nearly his whole life, Ahmed’s close friends had numbered not more than three and acquaintances even less. His words to others were usually curt or brusque, his manners severe, rarely caring about their feelings. He knew how to be pleasant and even charming to those he liked (they were not many), and the next moment to be cold to most others. In short, he had lived his life steeped in selfishness. Yet perhaps to acquit him, one could blame the way in which he was raised... And the first time when his heart had experienced deep, stirring gentleness for another, it had been after he met her. For with her, one seemed to forget being harsh or severe.

When he had gone back to London after the cruise, Ahmed had felt a black sprout of egoistical pride spouting and warping his love. It had been the knowledge that he – a Montex… loved her! While she was…who was she after all? Only a nobody.

Yet the weed had eventually withered and died in the realization that she did not give a da** for who or what he was –did not even care whether he existed or not! And that had humbled him like nothing else before, purifying his love, making him turn again and again towards the religion, towards Him …the One – she had always seemed to be conscious of.

And thus He SWT had brought him to her country, to her city, to her home… while his love had only tortured and burned him with doubts and despairs.

All this and more Ahmed had gone through in the past months, yet it looked like in this first week after his marriage he had completely forgotten his every trouble and anxiety in the never ceasing wonder and ecstatic knowledge that she loved him in return!

To others, her face and figure may be ordinary and simple yet to him she became how Laila had been to Majnu.

And it was not long before the definition of bliss to him became her sweet loving smiles, or pure caressing eyes –

There are not many things that humbles a man’s intense pride – foolishly inherited and constantly drilled…yet it crumbles to dust and he finds himself wondering, sometimes even weeping but mostly thanking His Lord when such a woman as this reciprocated his love in her beautiful ways. If a man did not strive to become worthy of such love, then indeed Ahmed did not know how much worse he could become…

To Ahmed, this week had been a mixture of glorious things –Love, laughter, knowledge, bliss and peace. In Abdullah as well as Saif, he found them as men to respect admire and love. In Kadhija, the little sometimes when he saw her (for she did not voluntarily appear or sit with him), he found the woman who had made Humaira what she was today…

And when he realized that his wife would look exactly like her mother when she became older, Ahmed always had a sudden sweet wave of joy engulfing his heart that he and his Muskaan would be in some thirty years the way Abdullah and Kadhija were now today.

In Umar, he found the first child that he had come to love and care deeply, and to Umar Uncle Ahmed had long become the next hero after Saif Bhaiya.

Somehow, for the past four days, Umar had managed to coax his Uncle Ahmed of relating his surgical experiences. The more gruesome they were, the more he seemed to become enraptured while Humaira after listening for some moments turned pale and left the two together. Ahmed seemed to become delighted in the knowledge that in the future, they may perhaps have a heart surgeon in their family, for it was hearts and everything related to them that fascinated and held the little boy. To Ahmed, the talks with Umar were great fun.     

It was just yesterday that Humaira had burst into their room panting, and after looking around desperately, had paused before him.

“G…got to hide!” She spluttered, her eyes shining as she gasped for breath.

She looked around the room again, and then her gaze rested upon him. Suddenly leaning forward, she pulled open his shirt’s pocket and stuffed some paper inside that she had been carrying.

Humaira placed her forefinger on her lips. “Don’t say anything.” She begged her husband, then in front of his bemused eyes, disappeared into the balcony.

The next moment, Saif entered the room, looking thunderous. He stopped short seeing Ahmed.

“Did she come here?” He demanded furiously.

“Who?” was the cool reply.

“Saira.” Ahmed raised a brow; Saif shook his head muttering something about annoying sisters.

“No, that was silly of me, of course she won’t have come here…” Still muttering, he turned and left.

It was after a few moments that Humaira cautiously poked her head into the room.

“Gone?” She tentatively inquired Ahmed and he saw the brown eyes twinkling in laughter.

He nodded smiling, and then took the paper out of his pocket when she came and sat beside him.

“Saif Bhaiya writes romantic shayaris (couplets),” She explained gleefully as she took the paper from him.

“Saira Di always suspected it, but he never showed it to us, today he was a little careless with his notes and Saira Di managed to abduct some. We were both going to read but Saif Bhaiya caught us, and we had to run, I hope she escaped like I did, shall I read one?”

“Of course not!” A voice growled from the doorway making her jump and then with a squeak, she went and hid behind Ahmed’s chair.

“Humair, don’t make me more furious, just give that paper.” Saif demanded as he stalked towards them.

“Oh Saif Bhaiya, let us read only one…just only one, please?”

He shook his head stubbornly.

“But Saif –” Ahmed began, only to be interrupted by him. “No Ahmed.” So, he had his way, and left the room with his precious paper.

Humaira looked forlorn, and then cheered up soon when she met Saira who looked mad, and said how Saif had threatened her and took the papers back.

“Your poetry stinks!” She had shouted to his back.  He turned and grinned, now that his notes were safe with him… “Thank you but comment your opinion only when it’s asked my dear sis!”

“You’re horrible!”

“Say something that’s new in the news.”

“You…you –you’re…”

By that time, Saif had left, his deep laughter echoing to his maddened twin.

To Ahmed, scenes like this were new and innocently childish yet he knew that these people whom he loved were greater in wisdom than him. These people whom he loved – how changed he must have been, for not a year before, he had been a man who liked only a few and loved none.

It was the daily Ta’leems that he very much liked, amidst which, suddenly there had been a day when Abdullah instead of reading Ahadith had asked Saif to read Tafseer of the Noble Qur’an. He chose the Tafseer of Surah Yusuf. Umar was put to sleep soon and the adults though tired made it a long blessed night and thus, Ahmed came to know all about the Ahsanul Qasas (The most beautiful of stories).

So, the week to him went like a wonderful dream…and then, the phone call had come.

***

London, U.K.

“A bit jet lagged, I’m fine though.” The stunningly beautiful woman said in reply to the man’s smiling enquiries.

She did not seem surprised or bothered that most whom they met as they went inside the studio, paused and stared at her. Wearing long flowing black trousers and an equally dark blouse with billowing sleeves, her deep blue-black hair was tied in a high ponytail. Her face looked ivory white in contrast to her ruby-red lips. She was faintly smiling, listening to the man’s pleasantries yet the smile did not reach her startlingly green eyes.

“Who is she?” queried a tall, thin model to another, their envious eyes still following the woman who soon disappeared behind a door.

Her friend slightly shrugged. Yet it was not long before these models who were working for the prestigious Mattie Jones, came to know that the gorgeous woman was a leading super-model from U.S.A. who had agreed to be a part of this project.  Sophia Roberts, they learned, would be displaying the best collection in the soon to be launched and eagerly anticipated fashion show of the season.

In another part of the city, in one of the highly posh neighbourhood, a man restlessly paced in an elegant room. His grey eyes were slits of steel while his throat worked as he swallowed intermittently as if unable to breath. The strong fingers clenched and unclenched as he continued to pace –Dr. Wilson Rowland was in a rage.

His was not a nature to be easily aroused to furious anger; He was mostly cool and collected while both his friends and enemies knew that his anger was only displayed through biting sarcastic remarks that were often accurately right. Yet this past month, he was repeatedly having bouts of deep wrath. It was lucky that his friend who had been the cause of his increased blood pressure was in another part of the world.

To Dr. Wilson Rowland, his profession was his passion –it had first intrigued, then completely fascinated and held him in firm binds… this ever deepening knowledge and experience of men – to study, analyze, criticize, revive etc their motives, feelings, emotions, fervours and manias of other people…even more than curing or treating their disorders, he was a lover of the science of studying and dissecting dispassionately others mind and moods.

But now as he paced he swore one more time, for when Life handed him his own share of lessons, Wilson found it hard to be cynical or dispassionate. And like most before, he found it da** hard to practice what he preached. This past month, his feelings had become turbulent, and now he was experiencing such boiling waves of anger… and all the dealing and teaching about anger management be da**ed!

For another ten minutes, he continued to pace and finally with a “Godda** you Alex!” he stopped and took his phone.

The other phone, thousands of miles away rang for some time, before it was picked up.

“Wil?”

Wilson’s heart gave a leap on hearing the quiet voice. And queerly, the churning anger abated instantly when he realized that there was laughter in his friend’s voice.  

“So you’re alive huh?”

“You care about that Wil? Such a surprise.” The laughter was gone, and the voice had turned cold.

“Giving me my own style?” Wilson laughed now, a brief bitter laugh.

There was no response from his friend.

“Won’t you ask why I called?”

Ahmed finally relented a little with a sigh. “Alright. Why this sudden burst of affection?”

Wilson’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Draco came some days before.”

Again, his friend remained silent.

“You never informed him about anything huh?”

“He would have got to know by now.” was the unconcerned reply.

“That’s true…yes. And today he called me… he had you successfully tracked –and learnt everything about your …in laws and wife…he’s not happy…”

“Is he ever? Besides, I don’t care.”

“Alex!”

“Ahmed.” His friend automatically corrected him. “Is this why you called me Wil? To tell me how he’s feeling?”

Wilson dragged a hand though his hair. “So grateful aren’t we? No. I didn’t call you to talk about his feelings or mine. But he said to tell you something –”

***     

Chennai, India

Ahmed stood there in the small balcony, staring unseeingly at the little garden below. The tension had been mounting ever since he had talked with Wilson. It was as if he had been living among the clouds and suddenly had fallen down hard upon the earth –for the first time in almost a fortnight, the blue eyes had turned icy.

He closed them and breathed in the sultry air of the hot noon. He vaguely felt the sweat trickle down his forehead, yet still stood uncaring as the minutes ticked by.

Ahmed finally stirred when he felt the light touch of his wife’s hand upon his arm. He controlled his thoughts and faced her with a slight smile as she asked him whether he was alright. The gaze was no longer cold as it rested upon her uplifted face.

“I didn’t know people could day-dream standing in this heat,” She teased him as they went back inside the room. “I called you thrice before you responded.”

“You called me?” Ahmed looked curiously at her. “By what name?”

She dimpled, shaking her head. “Golden words are not repeated.”

He smiled, and the unconsciously severe expression of his face relaxed.

“I came to say that Dadima has rested now and wants to see you… you’ll come?”

This morning, Ishrath Jahan had suddenly descended upon them all unannounced with two of her daughters, their children and spouses. Saira had been dismayed, and kept muttering if only I had known, while her brother teased, yea you would have escaped to your home! Ahmed had not come down to meet them yet as he had been busy catching up with the regular news from the hospitals, when his task had been broken by Wilson’s call.

Ahmed nodded now to Humaira, and at last met the formidable grandmother. She was sitting alone in Saif’s room when the couple entered.

The blue gaze took in her ramrod posture and finely wrinkled face, finally meeting the severe grey eyes.

Ahmed quietly said something that could be taken as the greeting. Dadima snorted in reply.

They talked for some minutes or to say the truth, she talked and they listened.

Suddenly, looking at Humaira, she asked bluntly,

“So this was ‘him’ huh?”

Humaira stared, then looked at Ahmed and remained silent. Though, a tiny smile graced her lips.

“Passable –” Ishrath Jahan commented drily, “Not handsome…no. Definitely wouldn’t have been my choice!”

Humaira chortled and hastily turned away, pretending to set right the flower-vase, unable to keep a straight face. She did not dare look at Ahmed now.

“Are you very good like her?” Humaira heard Dadima asking her husband, and felt like wanting to sink down into the earth.

“Though I think she’s good enough for you both –”

Unable to bear more, Humaira made some vague excuse and hurriedly left the room without catching Ahmed’s eye that had unfortunately turned cold.

Humaira did not see Ahmed again, and as it was Zuhur Salah soon, she knew he had gone with Saif and other men. The lunch came next and she became busy with the serving on women’s side etc, while before that there had been the large preparation, Kadhija doing her best as always, Saira helping on the sides and becoming dizzy in between with all the smells…then came the spreading of dastarkhaan when the men had gone to Salah, then their own Salah had to be prayed, lunch to be eaten –the dishes to be washed after that, the guests to be entertained amidst all this and when finally Humaira went to her room, she saw no sign of Ahmed.

The short siesta of the afternoon ended, Asr Salah came, the men went to the Masjid, and when they arrived back, there was the tea and snacks to be served to all.

Humaira was collecting the empty cups and bowls in the large hall of upstairs when a now-familiar quiet voice spoke behind her neck,

“So here you are.”

She nearly jumped and for a moment, the little glass bowls and cups were in the grave danger of crashing down from the tray that had wobbled in her hands.

“Ya Allah!”

Her heart still stuttering, she turned around after carefully placing down the tray back upon the coffee table.

“You frightened me.” She smiled at Ahmed, who was looking down at her with a queer smile, the blue eyes shining devilishly.

“And that was your Dadima…” He stated, the smile stretching a little.

Humaira nodded, the brown depths instantly twinkling with laughter.

“I shouldn’t have left you like that…I’m so sorry…”

“No you’re not!” He observed calmly, the keen gaze not missing the way her lips fought against the growing smile.

A bubble of laughter finally escaped from her.

“But you know –”

The next moment though both her words and the merriness fled from her as Humaira found herself cornered against the wall, beside the sofa with her husband looming before her –the blue eyes turning darker and his arms already sliding around her waist.

“Not here!” Humaira gasped, finally founding her voice, while her pulses trembled madly realizing his intention.

She tried to push him away, only to find that he didn’t budge. Her eyes became nearly wild as his face descended closer, her heart hammering madly.

“Not here please,” she repeated, trying desperately to gather her calm. “Somebody will come.”

They both were aware that the house was filled with guests.

“I hope so.” He spoke through his teeth, his warm breath fanning her face.

Humaira helplessly scanned his face, and perceived for the first time how the blue eyes glinted like shards of ice.

“You’re… angry.” She whispered, her pounding heart bumping to a sickening halt.

“I’m trying to be.” His grip around her tightened more. “Would you believe if I say that none speaks to me the way that woman spoke today?”

Humaira felt her heart turn cold, matching the coldness of his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” She apologized again, this time with no trace of laughter in her voice.

His hold loosened, yet Ahmed did not relinquish his embrace. His forehead touched hers and he finally spoke with an effort,

“I have loved…none like I do you –and I cannot help myself doing so. It makes me vulnerable,” He said harshly, not wanting to admit this weakness. “And when you mock at me –”

“Mock at you?” Humaira breathed unsteadily and he saw the hurt flash in her liquid pools of eyes. “Why do you say so? You know it’s not true…it was the ridiculousness of the situation…”

He dragged a breath and the ice finally melted, reflecting her hurt in anguish of his own,

“Wilson, my friend… called today, Draco –my father had called him to inform me that he had disinherited me, claiming that I’m no longer his son unless…unless I leave Islam –”

“Ya Allah…” Humaira felt her heart’s dulled beats begin to pound again heavily. “And you said …?”

“To go to hell.” His lips curled into a sneer, and she was struck by the severity of his expression.

“I don’t give a da** about any of his precious properties… but the hospitals –they are mine! What does he know or care about being a doctor?”

She could only stare at him – at this another side of her husband. He saw her expression and paused, striving to control himself. Then his lips briefly touched her brow as he said in a cold tone,

“Go now. I’ll be in our room, please see that none disturbs me. I’ll call you when I’m… myself again.”

It was nearing Isha and Humaira was mechanically helping for the dinner, her heart and thoughts repeatedly going to her husband who was still locked inside their room and he was yet to call her –

Saira was beside her, chattering something to their mother. When Kadhija left the kitchen, Saira turned to her with an arch look,

“Saif saw you two upstairs in the hall,” She announced and her sister stood still. “Are there not enough rooms that you have to portray PDA? If he’s an Angrayz (English), then you should teach him that this is not England.”

Humaira faced her sister and saw her smiling.

“He was angry Di.” She said softly, answering the smile.

“Oh?”

“I left him alone with Dadima.” Humaira confessed, looking into the teasing dark eyes.

Saira stared, and then burst into a peal of laughter.

“Ya Allah Humair…!”

“It was bad of me right?” Humaira gave a rueful smile.

Saira shook her head, now nearly convulsed in laughing.    

“You really did that? But why?” She finally asked with a grin.

Humaira drolly related their Dadima’s remarks, “And if I had remained another minute, I would have disgraced by laughing loudly –”

“Oh my Allah!” Saira wiped her eyes, dissolving into laughter again. “That’s why after saying Salaam, I have still not gone near her, she kills people with her tongue …I can never understand how Saif does all the talk and entertaining with her.”

Humaira nodded. “She dotes on Saif Bhaiya though…”

So they continued to talk as they worked, and Humaira’s ears were all the time attuned to her phone’s ringtone. It finally rang, making her heart bound and dropping the knife with a clatter, she hurriedly attended it.

When she spoke the greeting, her voice was calm, betraying none of hearts tumults.

Ahmed replied to her greeting, and said curtly,

“Could you be ready after Isha? We’ll be leaving as soon as I come from the Masjid.”

“Now? Tonight? But…”

“Yes?”

Humaira knew all this week that they would be going to their honeymoon soon. He had said that he was keeping their destination as a surprise, but she always thought that she would have some warning at least a day before.

And now, she wanted to say that she had not packed anything yet, that she was in the middle of helping dinner, that she too had to pray Isha, that she –

“Nothing. Yes, I’ll be ready In shaa Allah. And our dinner?”

“We’ll have it there when we reach.”

She acquiesced and vaguely wondered whether their destination was so near as to have tonight’s dinner there.

So, that was how she followed her mother’s example and turned into a whirlwind of sorts doing tasks simultaneously while Saira joined her up in the room when the dinner was almost completed, and opened a heartfelt rant about how selfish all men are as she helped Humaira select the clothes.

The heavenly peace descended upon the man, who sat bowed after the prayer had been completed –his hands raised and palms turned towards Him in a beseeching gesture of helplessness. The head that had bowed before none, now repeatedly bowed and prostrated before Him SWT, and thus found peace.     

When Ahmed walked out of the Masjid, his heart still swayed in tranquility while the blue eyes were neither warm nor icy.

Saif was laughing as he said, “Dadima wanted her grandson to marry Humair you know… I think she doesn’t like you –”

“The feeling is mutual.” was the quiet reply.

Saif stopped and looked at Ahmed, then continued to laugh again.

“So you tasted her acrid tongue? Actually she doesn’t mean harm, her heart is beautiful…”

Saif spoke again after some minutes, his voice now serious. “She was widowed when she was young, with more than four little children…and her husband left her vast wealth. Ammi says that made her quickly learn about the real face of the world. Her husband’s relatives were not so…nice. And she was forced to adopt a sharp tongue voicing what she thought about everyone. Their meanness and hypocrisy – this world,” Saif sighed. “is not an easy place to live.”

And Ahmed agreed.

When they reached home, before entering Saif paused and took Ahmed’s hand,

“I got to know from Saira that you and Humair are leaving tonight. I won’t be here when you guys come back,” He smiled his usual smile. “Finally going back to my Madrasah In shaa Allah. Before that though I’m going for ten days Jamaath …in the city probably, after that directly to Kerala In shaa Allah.”

“And you’ll come back again?”

Saif shrugged. “It would be tough. I have taken more than two months leave. If I can’t even manage to come during ‘Eids, it won’t be a wonder –they are very strict.”       

“And you’ll be leaving for Jamaath the next weekend?” Saif confirmed.

Ahmed nodded as they entered saying Salaam.

Upstairs in their room, he found Humaira praying Salah in her abaya, nearly ready.

So this couple took leave of all, with laughter and teasing and jesting advices…

As she hugged Humaira, Saira blurted out that she knew the destination, only to look contrite the next moment catching Kadhija’s eye.

“Okay okay –I just said that I knew, I didn’t say where right?”

Kadhija shook her head in exasperation, and then kissed her younger daughter, asking Duas to Allah SWT.  

Dadima unbent herself to bestow a smile and blessing upon both the Dulha and dulhan, while Abdullah patted Humaira’s cheek looking down at her fondly.

“Remember child,” He said tenderly, the words falling only for her ears. “Your husband is a good man, not a saint but I have watched him doing his best to learn and implement, try your best to always make him happy –he should be happy with you and the Jannah is guaranteed yours…”  

Saif, seeing Humaira when she finally came out of the house after having taken farewell of all, asked Ahmed loudly,

“Are you sure Ahmed that you could bear a week’s company of her all alone?”

“Saif Bhaiya!”

“Just give me a call if you want some rescue –” He continued to tease with a grin.

Ahmed smiled. “You don’t say that to your sister?”

“Oh she? She’ll live with a lion and remain her serene self. You’ll never hear her complain…”

“No more icing Saif Bhaiya, indeed I haven’t even a rupee to give you now, my purse is somewhere inside…” Humaira laughed, indicating their luggage.

“Ya Allah Humair, are all my praise to go waste then? You’re so heartless!”

The taxi arrived and both the men embraced, knowing well that when they would meet again, it would be after months and much would have changed…

Abdullah came out with a skipping Umar, the other men followed and Misbah finally arrived from his work at the same time. And thus the car with its occupants swept away – those who were left behind sending them their laughter and Duas, and for those who were really close, there was an ache in their hearts, knowing that their daughter, or sister were no longer theirs but belonged now completely to this (unknown) man who had become hers. Sacrificing everything she has known from birth the woman places her trust and goes to him and his -- and the man of the noble heart and soul recognizes its priceless value, and in turn bestows the precious gift for years to come –his True Love, so that his everything gradually becomes… her everything.

Thus sometimes in Life, we can hear a chapter end, and another begin like the angels of records who after a person’s sincere repentance turn a fresh page and await now with quills new and ink bright like the light of the heart of the one who has found the Most Beautiful One, and completely and deeply fallen for Him (SWT).

 Tabaarak Allaahu Rabbul 'Alameen!

(Blessed be Allah, the Lord of the 'Alameen (mankind, jinns and all that exists)!)

*****

A/N :)

I’m really sorry for the delay in the update (seems I’m forever apologizing ;P) but as I said before, guests Alhamdulillah –and you can’t turn them out of the house simply for the reason that you have to have peace for writing a chapter ;)

Once again, Jazak Allaahu Khairan Katheeran Katheera for the beautiful support. Remember in Duas!

Shukran Katheeran Lillahi wAlhamdulillahi Rabbil ‘Alameen!

Wassalam.

With deepest gratitude,

And special Duas,

abdurRahman :)